


if the world was ending

by cutiemidnight



Category: Aliens in the Attic (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jake, Character Study, Consensual Underage Sex, Cousin Incest, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Don't Like Don't Read, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Internalized Homophobia, Language, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Slash, No Aliens, Self-Indulgent, Sexual Inexperience, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Top Tom, dad finds out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:07:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22867594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutiemidnight/pseuds/cutiemidnight
Summary: Tom is forced to confront his feelings when he spends a week in a summer home with his cousin Jake.
Relationships: Tom Pearson/Jake Pearson
Kudos: 13





	if the world was ending

Tom sat in the backseat of the car, squished in between Hannah and Bethany. Hannah was bobbing her head side to side to the music blaring in her headphones so loud he could hear what she was listening to, eyes closed and occasionally hitting him in the face with her stuffed animal. Bethany, on the other hand, was determined to take up as much space as possible. She elbowed him in the side every thirty seconds as she fidgeted on her phone and smacked her gum obnoxiously, glaring at him out of the corner of her eye every time he pushed her out of his personal space. He tried to keep his long and lanky limbs to himself, but was finding it hard to do so. He didn’t know why he was chosen as the one who had to sit in the middle. If anything, he was the worst candidate.

He leaned closer to Hannah so she would be able to hear him over her music when he said, “Hannah.” Her eyes opened, and she removed her headphones from her head. “Please, next time, you ride the hump, okay?”

She looked up at him with her wide, blue eyes. “I barf in the middle. Remember?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, she slipped her headphones back on and returned to rocking out. He sighed and slumped back in his seat, the back of his head hitting a suitcase stacked behind him. He winced. His knee barely brushed against Bethany’s, and if looks could kill, he would be six feet under.

His dad sat in the driver’s seat behind the wheel. He seemed normal enough, listening to the voices droning on and on over the radio in monotone contentedly, but Tom knew better. He could tell in the slight clench of his jaw and the way his knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel a little too hard that he was still seething over the argument they had had last night.

It was the same one they had had many times — his grades were too low, he was failing on purpose, being cool doesn’t matter, blah, blah, blah. But he didn’t care about his grades or being cool. His father was naive if he thought that was what this was really about. Regardless, it had ended the same as any other time they had battled it out — no compromise, no olive branch, and in the morning, his dad was oddly quiet and refused to meet his eye. It was only a matter of time before tensions would rise again and the situation would implode once more.

Tom resigned himself to absentmindedly staring out the window, at least as much as he could see of it with Hannah and Bethany in the way. They drove through the concrete jungle that was Chicago with its high towers and traffic, its skylines and yellow cabs and surges of pedestrians rushing across white-striped crosswalks. Then, they left Chicago, and the city landscape gave way to the countryside. The metropolis was replaced with sprawling green hills and flat valleys. There were sparsely any trees obscuring the view of wheat fields and grassy meadows. There wasn’t a soul around except for the occasional grouping of horses or cows next to a rotting barn that looked like it would cave in at the slightest breeze. Every now and then, they passed a billboard preaching some insensitive message or other. Who was paying for those billboards and who they thought would see them and take their sentiment to heart all the way out here in the middle of nowhere was beyond him.

He caught a glimpse of Bethany’s phone screen and stifled a laugh at what he saw. It was a picture of her boyfriend Ricky Dillman shirtless, although there wasn’t much to show off judging by the impossible smoothness of his pale chest. He looked like he was standing outside, holding a bouquet of pink and purple flowers and making puppy dog eyes at the camera. He assumed the picture was supposed to make him look attractive, but he couldn’t help but cringe at the ridiculous, pouty expression on Ricky’s face.

“Wow,” he uttered in disbelief. He snatched her phone out of her hand, partially to annoy her and partially to get a better look at the photo. “Your boy toy is a complete idiot.”

“Hey!” she whined and took her phone back. “Ricky is not a boy toy,” she corrected him. “We’re in a mature, loving relationship.” He made a noise of disgust, and she scowled. “Why don’t we talk in a few years when you have a clue what dating is all about?” she bit.

Something about her words and the way she said them struck a chord within him. “Like Ricky has a clue?” he sneered, his voice laced with pure venom.

She shifted in her seat so she could face him head on and stare him down. “One more word about Ricky, and I swear to God I'll kill you,” she snapped. Nothing in her eyes gave away that she was kidding.

“Okay, that is enough,” his mother spoke up from the passenger seat. “Knock it off, you guys. We're almost there.”

Just as she finished her sentence, they passed a sign announcing, “Welcome to Creek Landing, Michigan, established 1840.” Tom’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach.

His dad spun the wheel, turning into the long driveway of the house that would encapsulate his torment for the next couple of days. Once he shifted the gear into park, everyone popped their doors open and hopped out. With Bethany and Hannah out of the car, Tom found that he could finally breathe freely again. He unbuckled his seatbelt and scooted along the backseat until he jumped out of the car.

Bethany grabbed her bags and slammed the car door behind her. “And there's the pool. See ya!” she flashed them a shit-eating grin and made a beeline for the pool.

“We beat Uncle Nate! Yeah!” Hannah exclaimed before running off.

Tom came to a stop in front of the house. It was a huge, tudor-style two-story that sat on the lake, with balconies and bay windows galore. The windows were grimy, the paneled siding weatherworn, the shingles on the roof missing in some places and in desperate need of repair. The shrubbery clearly was not maintained and ran rampant, growing wild and shrouding the house. It looked like the kind of place a murder mystery novel would take place at.

“So, what do you think?”

He spun around to where his dad had opened the back of the car, and he and his mom were starting to unpack their duffle bags and suitcases. His dad looked at him hopefully. It was the first time he had directly addressed him since the previous night.

“I hope there was a discount for booking us into the most boring spot in the whole country.”

Tom wasn’t sure why those words left his mouth, but some deep, unsatiated urge within him longed to shit on his dad’s vacation and watch his smile contort into a frown. He wanted to make him feel for just a second the way he felt all the time — empty and hollow and disappointed.

His dad quickly recovered, however. “We're only a stone's throw away from at least a half dozen top-notch fishing lakes,” he reasoned.

“Are we near a time machine so we can go back five years to when I thought fishing was cool?” he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

He disregarded his comment. “Hey, I bought us all new Sidestab reels!” He presented to Tom some fishing contraption that he didn’t care about. “Anti-Reverse technology,” he added, as if to impress him.

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared directly at him. “Lame,” he deadpanned.

He grabbed his bag and stomped up the path leading to the front porch before either his mom or his dad could do anything. He was the first one inside, yanking the white front door open to reveal the aged interior of the house. The walls were a deep teal, and the ornate arches and crown molding were made out of a dark oak. Several fake fish and framed pictures of people fishing hung on the walls. Yep. It was definitely something straight out of _Clue._

There was a grand staircase leading to the second floor. He climbed the wide stairs, passing a painted portrait of an old, colonial man he couldn’t name and a vase full of fishing poles. He came across an extremely large bedroom with fading, flower-patterned wallpaper and hardwood floors covered by a rug. The central focus of the room was a double bed with towels folded on the ottoman in front of the footboard. Bunk beds outfitted with red gingham blankets were on the other side of the room. There was a fireplace and shelves stocked so full of books, he thought they would collapse from the weight. A large bay window with flannel curtains allowed lots of natural light into the room. Tom set his bag down in front of the double bed. It wasn’t ideal, but he’d be damned if he was stuck here for a week without the best room in the whole house.

The sound of tires screeching against the gravel driveway and muffled rock music coming from outside drew his attention. He stalked over to the bay window and watched a black van come to a sudden stop at the front of the house, kicking up dust behind it. His uncle Nate got out on the driver’s side, and when the car door on the passenger’s side opened, Tom’s heart stopped beating in his chest.

His cousin Jake Pearson peeked his head of curly, blonde hair out of the van. The sun shone down on him, illuminating his golden curls and making him look almost angelic or cherubic. His round, blue eyes shone brilliantly, and his cherry lips spread in a wide smile, revealing two rows of pearly white teeth. His cheeks had a slight flush to them, and his tan skin glistened. Tom watched as he strutted around to the back of the car, a skip in his step. He looked taller; his frame was leaner, a hint of muscle in the subtle flex of his arm.

Nate, Jake, and his father met up at the back of the van. They said something to each other, but they were too far away for Tom to hear with a layer of glass in between them. Then, Nate picked his dad up over his shoulder, and a surprised expression made its way onto his face. Jake burst into laughter as he witnessed the interaction, and a peculiar warmth spread inside Tom’s chest at his unrestrained smile. He tore himself away from the window before his thoughts could stray away from him.

He busied himself with unpacking his belongings. He was halfway through his duffel bag when he heard a familiar voice down the hall that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on edge.

“Twins, in here!”

Sure enough, he came face to face with the devil himself. Jake came strolling into the bedroom, his twin brothers Art and Lee trailing behind him and carrying all his stuff. He had an air of confidence about him that bordered on arrogance.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted them politely.

“Put my bags on the bed,” Jake commanded, pointing to the double bed with an authoritative finger.

The twins glared at him, but ultimately gave in. “Sir, yes, sir,” Art said, dumping the bags weighing him down onto the mattress.

Jake reared back and spun around, narrowing his eyes until they were slits at Art. “Trying to be a wise guy?”

“No. No,” Lee defended his brother adamantly. “Definitely not.” He turned to Art and hissed, “Don't provoke him.”

“Good,” Jake affirmed. Then, he looked at Tom’s bag with an expression of disgust. “Now, get these out of here.” He jabbed his thumb at the open doorway behind him.

Art and Lee sprung into action, grabbing Tom’s bag and scurrying out of the room like rats before he even had time to react. “Wait a minute, why do you get the best room?” he complained. “I was here first!”

Jake shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts and shrugged carelessly. “I'm here now.”

The corners of his lips tilted upwards confidently. “I'm older.”

Jake stepped forward, invading his space, and Tom became overwhelmingly aware of the couple of inches he had gained on him in height since the last time he had seen him. He smirked down at him. “And I'm bigger.”

Tom struggled to swallow. Jake standing within such close proximity to him ignited every nerve in his body. He was so close, he could smell his natural scent mixed with a hint of Axe body spray. It felt like a wave of unbearable heat had crashed over him suddenly; he was starting to sweat.

He realized he had to slightly look up at him now to meet his big, blue eyes. “Did you... grow since Christmas?” he managed to get out.

He broke out into a grin. “Two inches, cuz,” he gloated. “I can tag a stop sign without even having to jump.” He mimicked doing so and walked over to his duffel on the bed. “How's Mathletes?” he asked with a knowing look and a teasing edge to his voice.

Tom smirked proudly and raised his brows. “I don't do Mathletes anymore.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “You tired of getting beat up?” he taunted, causing the confident look on his face to fall.

Before he could come up with a witty remark that could disarm him, his father’s voice called from downstairs, “Tom! Get down here and help us unload! Now!”

Jake unzipped his bag, and Tom internalized a sigh. He dragged his feet towards the door, and Jake looked at him over his shoulder. “Close my door on the way out,” he ordered.

He stopped in his tracks to glower at him and, just to spite him, didn’t touch the door as he left.

-

A storm swept through around dinner time. The sky became impossibly dark, even for the evening. Rain splattered on the windows in big, fat drops and ran down the glass, leaving trails of water in their wake. His father assured them everything was fine, of course. It was just in preparation for the meteor shower that was going to take place tonight. But Tom couldn’t shake the looming sense of foreboding the strange weather gave him.

When the tv changed from some football game he didn’t care about to black and white static, he knew something was up. “Stu! Natey!” his grandmother called as she got up from the couch, all of her joints popping as she did so. “The TV's gone haywire!” She brought her cane down on the sorry excuse for a TV repeatedly, as if that would magically fix the problem.

Nate barely looked up from the newspaper in his hand. “Stu, TV's gone haywire!”

His father came clambering into the living room. “Mom. Mom, stop it. It's probably the dish,” he reasoned, and she stopped whacking at the TV. “After the storm, I'll climb up on the roof and fix it.”

“Hey, wait a second, Mr. P,” a voice like nails on a chalkboard said. It was Ricky; he looked even worse in the flesh than he did in the awful photos he sent to Bethany. “Let me fix the dish, man. That's the least I can do for your hospitality.”

“Oh, no, Ricky. You don’t have to do that.” His father dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

“Please, Mr. P, I insist.” Ricky had one of his signature fake smiles plastered across his face.

“Go ahead, Richard,” Nana urged him. “Show some hustle.”

“Yes, indeedy,” he walked over to where Tom was sitting at the kitchen table, minding his own business, “but I will be needing a helping hand.” He slapped a hand on Tom’s shoulder and stared down at him with a wolfish grin. “So what do you say, brother?”

And that’s how he found himself walking up a set of pull out stairs into a dusty, old attic with Ricky on his tail. It was packed full of random junk. It looked like it was mainly used for storage, like whatever spare things the owners had, they shoved up there and kept hidden away. It was still pouring outside, and the glass window to the roof quivered with the force of the rain.

“Total creep show,” Ricky mumbled as he took in the attic. He went over to the window and patted one of the wooden support beams propping up the roof. “Alright. Here we go.” He gestured up to the window.

He quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Come on. Quit stalling.” He leaned against the beam. “Get your ass up there and make me Nana's hero.”

“But you told my dad you'd fix it,” he pointed out.

He cocked his head to the side. “Aw, well, I told your dad a lot of things.” He started to list them off, “Like my car broke down, my parents own a lake house,” he paused for dramatic effect, “I'm eighteen.”

Genuine confusion overtook Tom’s features. “You... you’re not a senior?”

He got up on a box so he could reach the window and stared down at him. “Not in high school.” He undid the latch and held it open with his hand. “Now go.”

Tom looked at him for a moment as if he was going to refuse, but then Ricky dropped his nice guy act, and his expression shifted. “Go,” he demanded in a voice too deep to be his own, his eyes dark. He was much more intimidating now that his facade was gone.

He took a hesitant step in his direction, another and another until he was next to Ricky. He felt as if he were outside of his body watching his limbs move of their own volition as he stepped up to stand on the box. He grabbed the ledge of the window with both hands and started to lift himself up. Ricky placed his hands on his hips to help him and practically flung him through the window recklessly.

“There you go,” he said, not caring when Tom landed on the rooftop with a groan on his hands and knees. He heard the window close behind him, and he looked over his shoulder as Ricky replaced the latch before he could protest.

He scrambled over to the window and pressed his hands against the window, cold against his warm skin. “Hey! Ricky!” He pounded his fists against the glass as Ricky descended the stairs without an ounce of regret visible on his dopey face. “Ricky!”

He gave up when the stairs were lifted back up, drowning the attic in darkness. He sat back on his hands and watched the fog on the glass disappear. He should’ve known that Ricky didn’t actually intend to fix the dish. He only wanted to get him up here so he could trap him while he did God knows what.

Accepting his fate, Tom got up off of the ground and dusted himself off. He spotted the dish and stalked over to where it was. The closer he got, the more decimated he realized it was. It was burnt to a crisp and had been flattened like a pancake. It looked as if it had been struck by lightning. So much for the useless lightning rod spinning and rattling from the wind a few feet away. Part of it had broken off, and he picked up the broken piece, gobsmacked. Nothing that he would be able to do was going to fix the dish in the slightest.

He let the piece fall from his hand and clatter to the ground helplessly. A gust of wind rushed around him, ruffling his hair and blowing his flannel away from his body. For summer, the air was oddly cold, biting and nipping at his exposed skin. He instantly regretted not grabbing a jacket on his way up to the roof and wrapped his arms around himself to preserve what little warmth he had left.

The air crackled with electricity, and heavy clouds hung low above the roof in a gray haze. Tom suddenly had the strange sensation that he wasn’t the only one up here. He felt like there were eyes burning into the back of his head and whirled around. “Hello?”

His only answer came in the form of a rumble of thunder like a lion roaring as a flash of lightning terrifyingly close to the house split the sky in two. He winced, blinking away blurry dots that had clouded over his vision from the flash.

“Hello?” he called again to no one in particular. When still no one replied, Tom silently cursed himself. He was acting super paranoid for no reason.

Just as he was contemplating how to scale down the side of the house, a hand grabbed him by the shoulder. He nearly jumped out of his skin and spun on his heel to see Jake standing before him, clearly amused at the look on his face

“Dude, you make it too easy!” He laughed.

Tom’s frightened expression morphed into a frown. “It's not funny.”

Jake ignored him and looked over at the dish in its sorry state. “What the hell happened to the dish? I can't do a week here without TV.”

He sighed. “I can't do a week here, period.” He drew his brows together. “What do you want?”

He looked taken aback. “What makes you think I want something?”

“Why else would you follow me up to the roof?”

“Well, I figured I’d be your knight in shining armor and come rescue you.” He jabbed a thumb behind him, and Tom peeked over his shoulder to see the window to the attic propped open. “I knew that jackass had it out for you from the start.”

He groaned. “I swear he’s targeting me for no reason. He lied about his car breaking down so he could spend the night and he told Bethany he’s eighteen when he’s really, like, twenty-one.”

A look came over Jake’s face that was almost akin to fury. “We gotta go tell your dad.”

He started for the window, and Tom wrapped his fingers around his arm. “What difference would it make? He’s got my whole family wrapped around his finger. All it would do is anger him even more.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “Well, he’s gonna get a piece of my mind at least.” He tugged against Tom’s hold on him.

He grabbed onto him with his other hand. “Please, Jake, don’t,” he begged him. It took all his strength to hold the blonde back. “You’ll only make it worse.”

His expression softened, and the tension in his muscles loosened. “Fine.” But something about the way his eyes still burned with hatred told Tom he would only keep his promise for so long.

Silence settled over them, and Tom became aware that he was still holding Jake’s arm. He retracted his hand as if his skin had been singed at the contact. The whistle of the wind filled the quiet and blew through Jake’s curls, making it look like a halo encircled his head.

“Why don’t we go back inside where it’s actually warm? I’m freezing out here.” Tom suggested, his teeth chattering. He didn’t know why, but he felt uncomfortable being alone with Jake, especially for a long period of time.

For a second, a look of disappointment flickered across his face, but it was quickly replaced by one of indifference. “That’s a good idea.”

Tom ducked through the window first, Jake following close behind. He closed the window behind him, and Tom lowered the retractable staircase. They left the attic, the stairs creaking under each step, and went to the first floor. They passed by his father in the living room who stopped them in their tracks with his voice when he spotted them.

“Tom, have you and Ricky fixed the dish yet?” he asked eagerly.

Jake visibly stiffened next to him at the mention of Ricky’s name. Tom scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that...” He looked down at the ground sheepishly. “It’s busted.”

He knitted his brows together. “What do you mean it’s busted?”

“It’s completely blown to bits. I think lightning must’ve hit it or something.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

His dad pursed his lips. “Funny. I didn’t notice any lightning.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to get a new dish. There’s no other way to fix it.”

“I don’t think it can be replaced until the owners come back. We’ll have to spend a week without TV.” At his father’s words, his jaw dropped. “All well. We don’t need it.” He slung his arms around Tom and Jake and smiled at both of them. “That just means more family time, doesn’t it boys?”

He glanced over at Jake, and his stomach flipped upside down when he saw he was already staring back. He quickly looked away. _Right. Family time._

-

The storm passed. The sky was clear for the meteor shower, though Tom found little interest in it. When the first stars of night shone high above them, everyone headed off for bed. After what felt like hours of searching with no help from anyone, he found where the twins had dumped his stuff: in a small cupboard off of the main hallway on the second floor. Rage surged through his veins, and it didn't go away as he got ready for bed. In a split second decision, he threw open the door to the bedroom he originally selected for himself and stormed inside.

Jake was in the attached bathroom, brushing his teeth. He peeked his head out when he heard him enter. He was dressed for bed in a plain tee and pajama pants. He removed his toothbrush from his mouth and gurgled something, but Tom couldn’t tell what he said because his mouth was filled with toothpaste.

Tom furrowed his brow. “What?”

Jake rolled his eyes and retreated back into the bathroom. He spat the toothpaste out into the sink and returned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I said, ‘What are you doing in my room?’”

Anger sparked within him once again. “This is my room. I chose it first, and I refuse to let you take it from me.”

He chuckled, and Tom frowned at him. “Sorry, cuz. I just find it hard to take you seriously sometimes.”

He pressed his lips into a razor sharp line. “Fine. You don’t believe me?” He dropped his bag to the ground with a thud and climbed into bed. He wrapped himself up in the covers and squeezed his eyes shut so he couldn’t see him.

He awaited Jake’s reaction, but merely heard him sigh. “God, you are so stubborn.” He listened as his bare feet padded across the hardwood floor. The lights flicked off, and for a second, he thought Jake had surrendered and let him be. But then, he felt the covers being lifted, and the mattress dipped under the weight of someone slipping into bed beside him.

His eyes shot open. He could make out Jake lying next to him in the dark. “What... what are you doing?” he stuttered nervously.

Jake’s smile shone through the dark. “The way I see it, both of us want this room and neither of us want to leave. So either you can suck it up, compromise, and share the room with me, or you can pack your shit and leave.”

His vision adjusted to the dark, and his breath caught in his throat when he realized just how close Jake was to him. His face was inches away, and he could smell the minty scent of his toothpaste. When he said nothing further, he turned his back on him and got comfortable.

Tom stared at his back through the dark, noticing the outline of his spine and his shoulder blades with the way his shirt clung to him. He wanted to say something about how awkward this was, but he felt like that would just make it even more awkward. After a while, he faced away from him and rested his cheek on his hand. He forced his breathing to even out and silenced every voice in his head screaming at him to run away. It wasn’t weird for him to share a bed with his cousin. They used to do it all the time as kids — why should it be any different now?

But that only brought up other memories of them as kids, and Tom had to shut his brain down before he could go any further down that path. There was only one thing left on his mind. He swallowed hard. “Jake?”

For a second, he didn’t reply, and he thought he had already fallen asleep. But then, he heard him say so soft and quiet, so unlike him, that he thought he had imagined it, “Yeah?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?” He could hear the confusion in his tone.

He exhaled, the sound deafening in the quiet of night. “For coming and getting me off of the roof.”

Pause. “It was no problem.”

They fell into silence again. Tom closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep, trying to ignore the warmth radiating from Jake’s side of the bed.

-

He fell into a light and restless sleep, tossing and turning, half-awake, half-asleep, dreams that didn’t make any lick of sense. He wasn’t sure what time he woke up, but when he did, he was coated in a thin layer of sweat. A shiver rippled through his entire body, and he realized he was no longer under the covers.

Tom rolled over and looked at the boy asleep in bed next to him. Jake was lying on his back, completely dead to the world. His golden hair fanned out on the pillow around him like a halo, his pretty, pink lips parted, and his long limbs were tangled up in the sheets.

He reached blindly for the covers and when he finally grasped them, he dug his fingers into them. He tugged on the sheets, but they didn’t budge. “Jake,” he whispered, his groggy voice cutting through the dead of night. “Jake, I’m cold.”

His blonde lashes fluttered, and his breaths became shorter and shallow. He looked at him through half-lidded eyes and shifted so Tom could pull the covers over him. Jake scooted closer to him and draped his arms over his waist. He pressed his body flush against his and curled into him. He buried his face in his neck and fell right back asleep as if he had never been interrupted in the first place.

Tom went still beneath him, paralyzed. Part of him wanted to push him off, but he looked so peaceful that he was afraid to even breathe in case he disturbed him. Jake’s skin was so warm and felt like a cooling balm against his own; he subconsciously welcomed it. His weight on top of him was a strangely comforting pressure on his chest. In his sleep-deprived haze, he crossed his legs over Jake’s and wrapped his arms around him in return. He rested his head on top of his blonde one, his curls tickling his skin, and held him close.

He fell asleep easily in a matter of seconds and didn’t wake for the rest of the night.

-

Morning light streamed through the bay window and seared his eyelids. He winced and held up his hand to shield his eyes. He turned away from the sun. He felt cold again. He instinctively reached out, but found the bed empty next to him.

Next thing he knew, a pillow hit him smack dab in the face. “Finally, you’re awake,” a voice said.

The pillow landed on top of him, and he lazily shoved it away with a groan. It flopped to the mattress beside him. A figured moved in front of him, blocking out the sun and covering him in shade. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked them open.

Jake stood at the foot of the bed, looming over him. He raked his gaze over his form, and his eyes widened when he realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. In fact, he wasn’t wearing any clothes at all — he merely had a fuzzy, blue towel wrapped around his waist covering his lower half. Water droplets dripped off of his damp curls onto his broad shoulders and rolled down his tan chest. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower.

Tom averted his gaze from his body and forced himself to focus on his face. Jake seemed to notice, because his smirk only widened. “I swear, you sleep like a rock, cuz. Nothing could wake you.”

The events of last night came flooding back to him like a dam had broken, and heat crept up to his cheeks. “When you woke up, were we...” he trailed off, unsure of how to say what he meant in a way that didn’t make it sound weird.

Jake looked at him expectantly, and when he didn’t say anything, he finished for him, “...snuggling? Yeah. I could feel your morning wood and everything.”

Jake maneuvered around the bed, and Tom’s face flushed so much, he was sure he was as red as a cherry tomato. He took notice and snickered. “I’m kidding.” Changing the subject, he began, “Anyways, now that you’re awake, I can tell you the plan.”

He propped himself up on his elbows. “The plan?”

“Look, I know you didn’t want me to confront Ricky head on, but we gotta do something about the situation, or he’ll think he can just walk all over you, and you’ll do nothing about it.”

He quirked a brow. “What do you suggest?”

He grinned, excited Tom hadn’t yet shot him down. “Well, I have just the thing to remedy the situation.”

He reached under the bed and lifted up a metallic, silver case — like the ones used for transporting instruments — covered in stickers. He set it down on the free space on the bed and undid the latches. He opened the lid and presented the contents to Tom. He sat up a little taller and peered inside at a giant paintball gun encased in black foam. It was painted green, brown, and black camouflage, and on the side in big, yellow letters was “The Punisher” in all caps.

He met Jake’s hopeful, searching eyes. “Your dad bought you this?”

“Perks of divorce.” He took the gun out of the case and started to assemble all of its parts. “Never underestimate the power of a grown man's guilt. If we even mention Mom, Nate drives us straight to the mall.”

He said it almost cheerfully, but Tom could see the hint of bitterness and hurt in his eyes. “So what do you want me to do? Shoot Ricky?”

“No, I want you two to kiss and make up,” he deadpanned, then he rolled his eyes. “Of course I want you to shoot him! What else are you going to do?”

“No, Jake,” he immediately denied. “I’m not gonna do that.”

“Come on! Why not?” he whined like a little kid.

“Because we’ll get in trouble, that’s why!”

“Who cares?” He tossed the gun at him, and Tom’s reflexes made him catch it before it could hit the bed. “Your days of acting like a pussy are behind you, Thomas Pearson. Today’s the day you become a man.”

He let out a reluctant sigh. He decided to let him indulge in his revenge fantasies for now (and part of him was excited to get to spend more time with him, but he didn’t want to think about that right now). Jake pressed his hands into the mattress as he leaned over him.

“I’m gonna get dressed, and then, we ride at dawn.” He grinned like a hellion. Tom could smell his green apple shampoo and Axe body wash. “You might wanna consider doing the same.” He gave his cheek a gentle pat before sauntering away.

-

It was finally warm outside, so Bethany and Ricky were lounging beside the pool. Ricky slowly unbuttoned his blue shirt and threw it off with a flourish, as if that was supposed to be seductive somehow. Bethany had on a little, yellow bikini with flowers all over it, and she sat on a pool chair in front of Ricky while he stood over, rubbing sunscreen on her back.

Tom and Jake crouched in the wild, overgrown grass a good distance away — far enough that they could watch them without being seen. Tom had the paintball gun aimed directly at Ricky’s pale chest. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea to go through with this,” he expressed.

“This isn't about ideas. This is about action,” Jake said like a motivational speaker. “Don't think. Do.”

“Why do you care so much about Ricky anyway?” he questioned. “It’s me he hates, not you.”

“You’re my cousin, Tom, and families looks out for one another.” He crawled closer to him on all fours and slapped a hand on his shoulder. “So consider this me looking out for you.”

Across the way, Ricky continued to massage lotion into Bethany’s skin. She craned her neck to look at him behind her, and he started to go in for a kiss. “Target is on the move! Take him out before he gets to second base!” Jake urged him.

He removed his hands from the gun, throwing in the towel. “That’s it. I’m not doing it.”

Jake gaped at him, enraged. “Are you kidding? You can’t chicken out now!”

“I told you, Jake, I’m not shooting my sister’s boyfriend, even if he is an asshole,” he refused, shaking his head.

He clenched his jaw. “Fine. You wanna take the high road? By all means, go ahead.” He grabbed onto the gun and started to pull it away from him. “I’ll do it myself.”

Tom’s eyes went wide and he wrestled Jake for the gun. “Jake, no! Stop—”

They continued to play tug of war until Jake pulled with such force that Tom’s hands slipped from the gun. Jake stumbled back, and he must've bumped something, because the next thing he knew, a burning sensation blossomed throughout Tom’s shoulder. The gun continued to malfunction as Jake watched on horrified. He got another blow to the stomach, and a final one to his thigh. Then, it was all over, and he collapsed into a crumpled heap on the ground.

He heard the plastic gun clatter to the ground, and Jake scurried over to him. “Holy shit. Are you okay?” He leaned over him, his eyes wide. “Tom, are you okay?”

It took everything in him not to scream. He blinked back tears and gasped for breath. The pain in his leg and abdomen subsided, leaving behind only a sting, but his shoulder still felt like it was on fire. “My... shoulder...” he managed to wheeze.

His gaze flickered down to the aforementioned body part. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “Hang on, I’ll get you inside. We’ll ask for help.”

Jake slung Tom’s good arm over his shoulders and helped him off of the ground. He winced all the while, biting his lip so hard he thought it would bleed. Slowly, Jake led him inside, Tom hobbling along to keep up beside him and putting most of his weight on Jake. They entered through the back door into the kitchen.

“Dad! Uncle Stu!” Jake called out. He pulled out a chair for Tom at the kitchen table and helped him sit down. “Come quick! Please!”

He heard the telltale sound of footsteps approaching before he saw his father and Nate rush in. “What’s going on?” his father asked in a panicked voice, frantic and wide-eyed. “What happened?”

“We were playing with the paintball gun when it misfired and—”

His dad cut off Jake’s hurried explanation, “Wait, paintball gun?”

Jake huffed in frustration. “Please, Tom’s hurt!”

His dad switched his attention to Tom, giving him a look that said he would scold him later. He walked over to him and scanned him for potential injuries. “Okay, son, where are you hurt?”

“His shoulder!” Jake jumped in for him.

His father examined his shoulder while Jake peeked from behind him. “His shoulder’s dislocated.”

Jake’s face fell. “Should we call 911?”

“No, no,” his father waved him off. “I can fix it, though it’s going to hurt a little bit.” He moved to Tom’s side and pressed his hands to his shoulder. “One...” he started to count down.

Jake kneeled down in front of him and stared up at him with his big, blue eyes. “It’s okay, Tom. It’s gonna be alright.”

“Two...”

Tom’s chest rose up and down rapidly, his staggered breathing filled his ears. He felt like he was hyperventilating. He braced himself for the oncoming pain. In his frantic state, he didn’t feel it at first when his cousin grabbed his hand.

“Three.”

In a movement of his father’s hands so quick you could blink and miss it, the intermittent pangs of sharp, shooting pain converged into an overwhelming tidal wave of agony in Tom’s shoulder. An involuntary scream ripped its way out of his throat, and he squeezed Jake’s hand so hard he thought he would break some bones. Then, it was over, and the torment subsided to a sore, dull ache in his bones.

Jake was still holding his hand.

He didn’t let go as he stared up at him, sweating and panting, as if he had just had his shoulder put back into its place and not him. “Thank God,” he breathed, dropping his head to Tom’s knee. He rested his forehead on his lower thigh.

“I’ll go get some ice,” his father said before exiting the room.

-

“I don't know what you were thinking. I really don't.” His father stood in front of them, his hands on his hips. “A paintball gun? That's a gateway gun! What’s next? BB? Pellet? Stun?” His tone was stern, strict, harsh. “What am I gonna do? What do you think I should do? I don't know what to do.” He threw his hands in the air.

Tom and Jake sat next to each other at the kitchen table. Tom was holding an ice pack to his wounded shoulder, still dressed in his orange and yellow paint-stained clothes.

“It’s my fault, Uncle Stu,” Jake said. “It’s my gun; I’m the one who told Tom to shoot Ricky. I take full responsibility.”

He fixed his gaze on him. “That’s nice of you to try and cover for your cousin, Jake, but you’re both at fault here.”

“But it was my idea! I’m the one who shot him!” Jake slammed his palms on the wooden tabletop with a resounding bang. “I’m the reason the gun malfunctioned, so I should be punished, not him!”

“Jake, please,” he held up a hand, silencing him. He ran his fingers through what little strands of hair he had left, gathering his wits. Then, he suddenly clapped his hands together. “Alright, let's start over with a clean slate. Tomorrow, we fish. Seven am sharp.”

Tom looked at him incredulously. “Seven? You’re kidding.”

“Uncle Stu, please, he’s hurt.” Jake gestured to Tom’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to hear any excuses.” He wagged his finger in their faces. “No ifs, ands, or buts about it.”

Jake turned his head to him. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” he whispered in his ear. Then, he called loud enough to be heard from the other room, “Nate?”

“Yeah, Stu. Don't you think that's a little early?” Nate spoke up from where he was slouching in the arm chair in the living room. “How about this?” He put on a faux-authoritarian voice. “Ten am, on the boat, no questions asked!”

His dad put his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts. “Way to crack the whip, Nate. Way to crack the whip.”

He left the room, leaving Tom and Jake alone. Jake turned in his chair to face him. “Hey, are you okay?” He rested his hand on his knee, sending tingles up his spine. He stared at him with so much concern in his eyes, it was overbearing. “I’m sorry about shooting you. It was an accident, I swear.”

Tom recoiled from his touch. “It’s fine.” He suddenly rose to his feet, the legs of his chair screeching against the wood floor as it was pushed back. “I’m gonna go change.” He didn’t meet his eye as he climbed up the staircase to the second floor as fast as his body would allow him to.

-

They went fishing the next morning, ten am on the dot as planned. It was hot out — unbearably so, and Tom found himself sweating in a matter of seconds when he stepped outside. The air was humid, and the sun beat down on him morbidly. He was lucky he had thought to wear his wide-brimmed hat before leaving the house or he was sure he would’ve gotten a painful sunburn.

The lake was stagnant; the cerulean water barely rippled. He sat in a boat with his father, his grandma, Art, and Jake. Every now and then, he and Jake would lock eyes, and he would avert his gaze. He couldn’t do much with his bum arm. He merely held a fishing pole in his good hand, staring down at the green blue depths below. They sat in silence, listening to the gentle sway of the boat side to side. Occasionally, Jake would try to strike up a conversation with him, say something that would catch his attention, but Tom didn’t bite. He ignored him, swatting at a fly that buzzed around him annoyingly with the back of his hand.

After a couple of hours, the boat came back in to the dock. It was an uneventful outing; no one had gotten a successful catch. They trudged solemnly across the lawn towards the house. Suddenly, Jake broke off from the pack, sprinting towards the pool.

“God, it’s so hot!” He tugged his gray shirt off by the back of his collar and discarded it on one of the nearby lounge chairs. He took a running start and launched himself into the pool, landing feet first in a big splash.

The twins followed suit, shedding their shirts and cannon balling into the pool. Hannah chased after them, not caring when her tank top and shorts got wet from jumping in. Bethany rolled her eyes at them and looped her arm through Ricky’s, dragging him inside through the back door. Art, Lee, and Hannah broke the surface, laughing and smiling.

Tom felt a nudge in his ribs and looked over to see his mom beaming at him. “Why don’t you go join them?”

He took her suggestion and traipsed over to the pool. He sat down on the ledge and dipped his legs in the water. He swung his legs back and forth, watching the sun glint off the surface of the water. He spotted a blur of color heading towards him, and it grew larger the closer it came.

Jake emerged from the turquoise water before him like a water nymph. His golden curls were reduced to a mop of damp hair on his head, a few shades darker than normal, and water droplets ran down his tanned, toned chest. His eyes matched the color of the water and looked at him in such a way that made his heart skip a beat. A siren, more like.

He waded through the water until he was waist deep and stood before him. “It was so hot sitting there doing nothing. I couldn’t take it anymore.” He stared at him quizzically. “What are you doing just sitting there? Aren’t you hot?”

“My shoulder hurts,” was his reply.

He gave him a knowing look. “Come on, cuz. You and I both know you were only using that as an excuse so you didn’t have to do anything when we went fishing.”

He simply shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t feel like swimming.”

“Get in! Cool off!” He shook the water off of him like a dog, and Tom leaned back to keep it from getting on him, laughing slightly. “What about if I ask nicely?” He crossed his arms over Tom’s legs and rested his chin on his wrists. “Pretty please?” He batted his eyelashes and stuck his bottom lip out at him.

His hands gripped the edge of the pool tighter than they should’ve. Seeing him look up at him like that from in between his legs was doing things to him, things that he wasn’t comfortable with. “You’re right. Maybe getting in the water is a good idea.” He pulled his shirt off and tossed it aside.

“That’s it!” he encouraged. He moved back far enough to give him room.

He lowered himself off of the edge of the pool and slipped into the water. It was cool and soothing to his overheated body. Suddenly, he felt a wave of water hit him in the face. He got a little bit in his mouth and coughed, wincing at the salty taste. He wiped his eyes to see Jake laughing at him, an amused sparkle in his eyes.

He splashed him back, fueling the fire for a war to break out between them. They didn’t stop until they were equally choking and sputtering. “Okay, can we call it a draw?” Jake asked when he recovered, extending a hand to him.

Tom nodded. “Deal.” He grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake, suppressing the way the feeling of his soft palm set his nerve endings on fire.

Jake turned to where the twins were bickering about something or other. “Hey, twins!” he drew their attention to him “Chicken fight — me and Tom versus you two!”

Tom furrowed his brow behind him. “What?”

“No way!” Art yelled. “That’s not fair! You two are older and bigger than us!”

“What? Scared you’ll lose ‘cause we’re better than you?” Jake taunted them.

They exchanged a look before turning back to them. “You’re on,” they said in unison, their faces set into a look of determination.

Jake faced Tom, blocking his view of the twins. “Do you wanna be on top or on the bottom?”

He blinked. “What?”

He looked at him with an expression of exasperation. “Do you want to get on my shoulders or not?” He shook his head disapprovingly. “I swear, I have to say everything to you five times today to get it through your thick skull.”

“Um, bottom is fine.” He hunched his shoulders.

“Okay, then. Bend down.”

Tom squatted down enough that Jake was able to climb up onto his shoulders. Tom held on to his calves to steady him before standing up fully. He wobbled slightly, but then regained his balance. Art and Lee approached them, stacked on top of one another and arms outstretched.

Jake grappled with Lee above Tom, fighting to knock one another off. Art kicked at Tom’s legs, but he stood his ground. Lee shoved Jake hard enough that he leaned back, shifting his weight off kilter. Tom toppled backwards, and Jake slipped off of his shoulders. He grabbed onto Lee on the way down, taking him down with him. All four fell into the water in a momentous splash that sent shock waves through the water to the edges of the pool.

Tom sank below the surface, drifting towards the bottom of the pool. He sat down and crossed his legs, seeing how long he could hold his breath for. He felt a hand grab his and pull him up. When his head broke the surface, he gasped for breath.

He opened his eyes to see Jake impossibly close to him. The blonde chuckled lightly, but his laughter died out. He closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, looking like something straight out of a movie. He was still holding his hand. Then, he locked eyes with him, a smirk spreading across his lips. Tom’s gaze couldn’t help but drift down to those lips, bubblegum pink and shaped like flower petals. He couldn’t deny how kissable they looked or help but wonder what they tasted like. If he just leaned a little closer...

Tom shook himself out of the trance he was in. He retracted his hand from Jake’s. “I... have to go,” he blurted before spinning around and swimming away. He didn’t hear what Jake had to say over the sound of water swishing around him.

He clambered up the ladder out of the pool and headed for the back door. He didn’t dare look over his shoulder. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he saw the disappointed look on Jake’s face. It would only make him feel even worse than he already did.

He stormed straight up to his room and stripped. He peeled his drenched shorts and boxers away from his skin and stepped out of them, dumping them into a nearby laundry basket. He rifled through his duffel bag for a clean change of clothes and staggered into the bathroom in a daze. He made sure to close the door behind him and triple checked the lock.

He stepped into the shower, cranking the handle as far to the right as it could go. Ice cold water blasted out of the shower head with a hiss, hitting him like pellets. It felt like shards of glass scraping his skin, but he was thankful for the distraction. He scrubbed and scrubbed at his skin until it was raw. He felt like he was covered from head to toe in grime, and maybe if he scrubbed hard enough, he could clear the thoughts from his head and cleanse his soul.

He was just confused. That’s what he told himself. He was fifteen; it was a time for major changes, he had heard every adult in his life say. Puberty. Hormones. Unwanted thoughts. Jake was just another one of those — a temporary state of being, of thinking, of feeling. He would grow out of it. He would look back on this moment and laugh at how the thought of kissing his cousin could ever worm its way into his mind, how foolish, how childish he was. He was just confused. He repeated it like a mantra in his head. He was just confused. He was just confused.

On the thirty-fifth try, it seemed to stick. He turned the shower off with a click and stepped out onto the bath mat. He grabbed a towel off of a towel rack nearby and dried himself off. He changed into the clothes he had brought in with him and undid the lock, feeling considerably more light and relaxed than he had ten minutes ago.

That changed, however, when he swung open the door to see Jake standing there, drying his wet hair off with a towel.

Jake looked up at the sound of the door opening and smiled at him. “Cuz, I did a backflip! You totally missed out!” His grin faltered when he noticed the expression on Tom’s face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He didn’t want to deal with this right now. He couldn’t deal with him right now. “I’m fine,” he said, harsher than he meant to. “God, why do you keep asking me that?”

He made a beeline for the door, but Jake reached out and wrapped his fingers around his forearm before he could make it into the hallway. “Wait, Tom!” he yanked him back. “Where are you going?”

“Why do you care?” He ripped his arm away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

Jake stared at him incredulously as if a second head had sprouted from his neck. “Is this about what happened yesterday? You’re right, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I shouldn’t have come up with that dumb plan.”

“No, it’s... it’s not that.” He walked past him again towards the bay window. He felt like he was boxed in on all sides, and the walls were slowly closing in and he needed to put as much distance between him and Jake as he could.

“Then what is it?” He stopped his frantic motions again with his hands on his arms. “What’s up with you? You’ve been acting weird since we got here.”

Jake’s round, blue eyes were laced with so much concern it made him want to vomit. “Who was your first kiss?” he blurted suddenly.

Jake looked stunned, taken aback by the seemingly random question. “No one,” he answered after a moment. “I haven’t kissed anyone.”

“That’s wrong,” he firmly denied.

His forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that’s wrong!” He couldn’t say it, couldn’t force the words to climb out of his throat. _It’s me,_ his lungs itched to scream, _it’s me._

When he was eight, Jake came over to his house. They sat on the patchy grass in his backyard and picked at dandelion weeds with their stubby fingers. Jake told him about how he chased a girl during recess until he caught up with her and kissed her. Tom said he didn’t believe him.

“You really don’t believe me?” he asked, arching a thin, golden brow.

Tom shook his head.

“Then, you better run,” he warned.

And he did. He ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, the wind whipping at him as he did so. He ran circles around and around his backyard until his feet had blazed a path into the ground. And Jake caught up to him — of course he did. Even though he was younger, he was already physically superior to him.

Jake gave him a quick shove to his shoulder blades. He fell forward and sprawled out on the ground, the air knocked out of his lungs. And then he took his breath away again.

He landed on top of him with a big, toothy grin. Then, he pecked his lips. It didn’t last longer than a second; if Tom had blinked, he would’ve missed it. But there was no mistaking the sensation of his lips on his or the taste of the strawberry popsicle he had eaten earlier.

Then, Jake got up, and the strange force field that had enveloped them in that singular moment dissipated. “Your turn!” he screeched. Although, Tom wouldn’t be able to catch him.

They were just children, he told himself over the years. It meant nothing. But that didn’t stop him from thinking about it, from the memory engraving itself into his brain. It didn’t even occur to him that Jake might remember it as well. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind that he might think about it just as much. But looking into his eyes, the realization hit him like a freight train.

It was as if he could read his mind. Every word he didn’t have the breath to say, he seemed to understand. Just from looking in his eyes.

Jake kicked the door closed behind him with his foot. Then, still holding onto his arms, he leaned forward and planted his lips on his.

Tom froze. He didn’t know what to do. The kiss was a little sloppy. His nose bumped against his, and he had almost missed his mouth, but it woke something deep inside of him that he hadn’t known was there. He still stood there, as stiff as a board, until Jake ran his hand up to cup his cheek, and then he melted under his touch like putty in his hands.

He pulled away much too soon for Tom’s liking, resting his forehead against his. His other hand slid down his arm and intertwined their fingers, and Tom felt as if he held the weight of the world in his hand. The room was completely silent, devoid of all sound, and Tom feared that if he even exhaled, this illusion would cave in and slip from his grasp, that he would wake up and find this all to be a dream.

Jake moved to connect their lips again, but suddenly, Tom reared back. “I... I can’t. Jake, this is wrong, I...” he rambled, his last ditch effort to wash his hands clean and deny his complicity in their actions.

He made to pull away, but Jake’s hands on him held firm. “Shhh,” he shushed him, his warm breath fanning his face, and Tom reveled in it, reveled in everything Jake had to offer him. He cradled his face in his hands before kissing him again, and the last bit of clarity Tom had been clinging to evaded him.

Tom got lost in the feel of Jake’s lips on his. His lips were soft and sweet, his kiss slow and gentle, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid that if he pushed too hard, he’d scare him off. Tom tried to prove him wrong, prove that he was just as invested in this as he was by taking initiative and slipping his tongue into his mouth. And the pretty noise Jake made when he accepted him and parted his lips went straight to his loins. He wanted to hear him make it again.

Jake maneuvered them in the direction of the bed, and Tom followed his lead, eager not to separate the kiss just yet. He kept going until Tom’s calves hit the footboard and pushed him back. Tom bounced on the mattress before coming to a rest. He sat up on his elbows and stared up at Jake — his flushed cheeks, red, swollen lips, dilated eyes with lust blown pupils — swearing he had never seen him look as beautiful as he did in that moment.

Jake kneeled at the edge of the bed and slowly crawled towards him on all fours. He wasn’t sure if he was an angel showing him the steep and thorny way to heaven or a demon tempting him to sin, but he found he didn’t really care as long as he was his disciple. Jake laid himself on top of him like a cat and reignited their kiss, long and languid. He smelled like chlorine and salt and sunscreen and earth, and Tom felt lightheaded and drunk from breathing in his scent.

In between kisses, Tom smiled at him sheepishly. “I don’t have a lot of experience...”

He caressed his face. “It’s okay,” he assured him, and then he persisted to kiss his fears away.

He closed his eyes and relished the way Jake’s lips slotted perfectly with his. He was painfully hard at this point, straining against the fabric confines of his jeans and pressing against Jake’s bare abdomen. He must’ve noticed because he ran his hand down Tom’s chest and palmed him through his jeans. He drew away from his lips with a smack and sucked in a sharp inhale, a thin line of saliva still connecting their lips. He bit his lip to keep in the wanton moans threatening to escape as Jake continued to give him the much needed attention he craved, bordering on teasing.

He moved his way down his body, his eyes never straying from Tom’s. He sat back on his heels and settled himself between Tom’s legs. Jake reached for the button on his jeans and undid it. Tom felt like he was outside of his body, watching everything unfold and unable to do anything to stop it. The drag of his zipper felt like it lasted a thousand years, and he lifted his hips to help Jake pull his jeans and boxers down his legs.

His cock sprung free, a bead of precome already leaking from the tip. Jake didn’t hesitate to wrap his hand around his length and give it an experimental pump. He took his time learning the things that made Tom tick, what pressure to use and how fast he liked it, the way to twist his wrist just right at the head of his cock to make him buck his hips up into his hand involuntarily. Then, he bent down and licked a stripe from base to tip, and Tom could no longer hold back his sounds of pleasure.

Jake took him in his mouth, closing his lips over the head of his cock and sucking. He started to bob up and down, slowly at first, but quickly increased the pace. He used his hand to stimulate what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. He sunk all the way down on his shaft, and Tom’s pulse raced when he felt the tip press against the back of his throat.

He threaded his fingers through his curls, and Jake moaned with pleasure, the vibrations reverberating around him. Tom leaned his head back into the pillow and clawed at the sheets with his free hand. He felt something rise up inside of him, like his soul fighting to leave his body, a raging fire that needed to be quelled, or a thirst that begged to be quenched.

“Jake, I think I’m...” he managed to get out before he dissolved into a mewling mess under his ministrations once more.

Jake removed him from his mouth and jerked him faster. He tightened his grip on the sheets, the coil twisting in his stomach until it burst. He came with his name on his lips, thick ropes landing on his face like spider silk. Jake wrapped his lips around the head of his cock once more as if making sure to milk him for all he was worth before releasing him with a pop. The image was so hot that if he could, Tom was sure he would’ve come again.

Tom went limp, his chest heaving up and down. His limbs felt all numb and tingly. Jake sat up and licked what he could from his face. Then, he stood up, the mattress creaking as he did so, and slipped into the bathroom without so much as a word.

-

After that, it was like nothing had happened. Well, almost. Tom cleaned himself up and went downstairs. Jake came downstairs sometime later after him, looking considerably more put together than when he had last seen him. His hair was dry, his complexion was even, and he had on a fresh change of clothes. He locked eyes with him as he stood on the landing at the top of the staircase and immediately averted his gaze.

That night, the whole family gathered to have dinner on the patio. By some cruel twist of fate, Jake ended up sitting next to him. They said nothing to each other just like when they had gone fishing earlier that day. His dad grilled hot dogs, and Tom tried not to watch as Jake ate his, his cheeks burning. He kept his hands in his lap and his head low, not speaking unless spoken to, and even then, the bare minimum, the least he could say to get them off his back.

Suddenly, a hand closed over his. He looked down to see Jake’s fingers in between the spaces of his. He turned his head to look at him, but Jake stared straight ahead, seemingly laughing at something Nate had said. He squeezed his hand, and Jake squeezed back. He didn’t let go, holding onto him at the one point they made contact like a vice until it was time for everyone to go to bed, and then his hand slipped from his grip easily as they stood from the table.

Tom trudged up the stairs with the other children, Jake right behind him. The rest of them rubbed their droopy eyes and covered their mouths with their hands as they yawned, but he didn’t feel tired in the slightest. He felt like his whole body was a live wire, sparking and fizzling until he set everything around him ablaze.

Everyone went to their respective bedrooms; the shutting of doors resounded in the hall. Jake followed him into the large bedroom, closing the door behind them. He heard the distinct click as the lock turned and spun around to see Jake’s gaze dead set on him. Without a word, he lunged forward and captured his lips in a kiss.

The time for being slow and gentle was gone. The kiss was fervent, passionate, urgent, as if they didn’t get their hands on each other this moment they would be separated hereafter. His tongue probed Jake’s mouth, guzzling his saccharine taste. Jake cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer, though no matter how close he got, it never seemed to be enough for him.

His hands were everywhere: in his hair, tugging desperately on his sandy curls to give him more access to his honeydew mouth; tracing the sharp line of his jaw with the rough pads of his fingertips; feeling his shoulder blades, every muscle as they rippled along his back; his rib cage; over his chest, where he could feel his heart beat rapidly underneath his palm like a butterfly’s wings. He imagined his heart beat at the same pace. He wanted to map out every freckle, every blemish, every scar Jake had until he could draw him from memory with his eyes closed.

Jake pulled back suddenly, and they were both out of breath. He broke the arbitrary silence between them with five simple words when strung together formed the loveliest sentence Tom had ever heard: “I want you inside me.”

His voice was so small, Tom thought he had misheard him at first. He blinked. “What?”

Jake fisted the cotton fabric of Tom’s shirt in his hands and pulled him ever closer. “Please, Tom,” he begged, his tone heavy with lust and need, “I want you inside me.”

Instead of answering him with words, he kissed him again and tugged on the hem of his shirt. Catching his drift, Jake allowed him to pull it over his head. They swiftly undressed each other, practically ripping their clothing to shreds. Each new patch of tan flesh exposed to Tom he covered with his lips, sucking and nibbling until he left a trail of wine-colored love bites across his skin (being careful, of course, to leave them in places that could be easily concealed). It wasn’t long until they were stark naked before each other, both of them evidently aroused, their clothing piled in heaps at their feet.

Jake made himself at home amongst the gray sheets, spreading his legs wide so Tom had a clear view of his most intimate parts. The mattress groaned in complaint as Tom leaned over him, pressing a hand against the bed. His other hand started up his knee, creeping up the cream of his toned thigh. He stopped at his hip, rubbing circles with his thumb at the spot.

“Do you have any, uh, lube?” he asked in a shy, timid voice.

Jake shook his head, sending his curls bouncing. “Just go slow,” he said, and then flashed him a look with his lust-clouded, blue eyes that told him to stop stalling.

He sucked his finger into his mouth and dipped his hand between his legs, circling his tight ring of muscle with the tip of his pointer finger. Jake’s breath hitched in his throat. Slowly, he pushed his finger past his entrance. He clamped down on his finger at first, but he opened up to him sooner than he thought he would.

“You’ve done this before.” Maybe he meant for it to come out as more of a question than a statement.

Jake gave him a weak nod of his head, his focus divided between what he said and his ministrations. “Who were you thinking about when you fingered yourself?” The question escaped his lips before he could fully realize it, his voice husky and deep, so unlike his own.

His eyes were so dilated, his cornflower blue irises were mere rims around his pupils. “You,” he breathed, “only you, cuz.”

Tom nearly growled at his confession. “You ready for another?”

He nodded again, and Tom inserted another finger inside of him. He pumped his fingers in and out, in and out. He hooked his digits and curled them in such a way that hit a spot inside of Jake that made him throw his head back, sending his curls flying. Jake reached down and encircled Tom’s cock in his hand, jerking him.

“I’m ready,” he whispered against his lips.

Tom’s eyes widened, and he removed his fingers from him with an obscene squelch. He watched fascinated as Jake clenched down on nothing. Jake scooted back on the bed and laid down, his hair spreading out like the petals of a flower around his head. Tom knelt between his legs and positioned himself at his entrance. He connected eyes with Jake again, making sure he really wanted to go through with this. He gave no indication otherwise.

If there was any going back before, there certainly wasn’t any going back now.

He pressed into him. Jake made a face of discomfort, and he paused, giving him time to adjust to his length. When he gave him the go ahead, he sunk into him to the hilt. His mouth fell open. He was so warm and tight and wet around him, he was scared that if he didn’t take it slow, he would come before he had the chance to truly savor the sensation of being buried inside him.

Tom drew his hips back only to thrust into him again. Jake jolted forward on the bed. He set a smooth, even pace, his shallow breaths coming in staggered puffs of air. Jake gripped his arms, his nails leaving little, red, crescent moon marks in his pale skin, but he didn’t mind. The air felt so humid, it was nearly suffocating, and reeked of sex.

Jake’s efforts at holding back his wanton moans were in vain. Tom pulled out of him and flipped him over on his hands and knees. He wasted no time clutching his slim hips and re-entering him. With a particular hard thrust, Jake fell forward on his elbows, bending him in half. His face was smushed in the pillow beneath him, stifling his groans. He adjusted his angle as he fucked into him to brush against that spot inside of him that made go crazy.

Tom felt that familiar twisting in his gut, and he desperately chased his release. He rutted into Jake like a rabid animal, any trace or tidbit of common sense gone in his lust-fueled fever. The sounds of flesh clapping against flesh and the mattress squeaking underneath their sweat-slicked bodies filled his ears, adding to his impending climax. He could tell by the way Jake was squeezing his cock he was close too. He threaded his fingers through Jake’s curls and yanked his head back, forcing his back to curve. His other hand snaked below him to pump his erection begging for attention.

“Come for me,” he hissed, his breath ghosting the shell of his ear.

Jake came undone at his words. He mewled pathetically and spurted white ribbons all over his stomach and the bed. He went limp under him, Tom’s hand in his hair the only thing keeping him upright. His thrusts grew sloppy and uneven, and his hips stuttered as he came inside him with a guttural moan. He rocked into him a few more times as he rode out his high before pulling out. He let go of his grip on his hair, and Jake collapsed on the mattress, come leaking out of him and dribbling down his thighs.

Tom laid down beside him, drinking in his appearance. He looked thoroughly fucked: his hair was matted; his skin emanated a radiant glow; his eyes were barely open, rolled back to the whites. He was a masterpiece, painted with come and sculpted out of marble.

He thought Jake had fallen asleep until he shifted closer to him on the bed, nestling against him. Tom smiled lazily and slung his arm over his waist. He bathed in the warmth and smoothness of his skin against his like liquid gold, and he drifted off to sleep in the afterglow.

-

“When did you first know?”

He was lying in a glade by the lake, taking refuge from the sun under the shade of a tree. Jake was lying next to him on his stomach. They were both shirtless and wearing swim trunks from when they had gone for a dip in the pool earlier. Jake looked up from tracing random squiggles and shapes with the tip of his finger on his collarbone to meet his eye.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

He rolled onto his side to face him more fully. “You know,” he lowered his voice even though there was no one around, “that you liked boys?”

His cupid bow lips quirked into a smirk. “What makes you think I like boys?”

Tom ran his hand through his hair, playing with his curls. “You like me.” His blonde hair shone like strands of gold. “That must count for something.”

Jake flipped over onto his back. “I feel like I’ve kind of always known.”

He propped himself up on his elbows. “Do your parents know?” He shook his head. “How do you think they’d react if you told them?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think they’d care. My dad would be happy that I told him anything at all,” he said with a laugh, but it sounded hollow.

Tom rested his chin on his chest. “I doubt he’d be happy if he knew you were...” he paused, unsure of how to put it, “with me.”

His face broke out in a goofy grin. “Why?” he asked in a teasing voice, “‘Cause you’re my cousin?” Tom’s face went beet red, and not from the heat. Jake rolled his eyes. “It’s not like we grew up together, Tom. We see each other maybe three times a year. We’re the same age, and we can’t even reproduce. We’re not harming anyone.” He raised his arms above his head, stretching his lithe, lean body. “But I agree that telling our parents probably wouldn’t be the wisest choice.”

“Sounds like you’ve had some time to think this over,” Tom remarked with a chuckle.

Jake stared down at him, his blue eyes sparkling like sapphires. “I accepted the fact that I love you long ago.”

He tangled his hand in Tom’s hair and brought his face up to his. He pressed his lips to his in a bruising kiss. He pulled away, leaving Tom wanting more. “What about you?” He brushed Tom’s bangs out of his eyes. “When did you first know?”

He bit his swollen lip. “I don’t know,” he deflected. But if he could pinpoint a start, his brain conjured up an image of his backyard, and a boy with unruly curls who pushed him down. Tom had never been in love before him, of that he was sure.

-

One morning, Tom woke up before Jake did to the silver, pale light of morning. His stomach growled, and he unfurled himself from the mess of limbs he and Jake had become. He snuck downstairs, being extra cautious down the staircase so the steps wouldn’t creak under his feet. He went into the kitchen and dug a box of cereal out of the pantry. He poured some into a bowl he found and went to the fridge to add milk.

He grabbed a spoon and ate diligently at the island. He could see out of the windows the sun rising over the lake. The stars were long gone, and the sky was turning burnt orange and vibrant magenta, a stark contrast to the cerulean surface of the lake. The whole house was still, except for the chirping of birds in the trees outside and the scraping of his spoon against his bowl.

Hands closed over his eyes, and he twitched, milk dribbling out of the corners of his mouth. “Guess who?” a voice whispered in his ear, so distinctly Jake’s he didn’t know how he could ever mistake it for someone else’s. He hadn’t even heard him sneak up behind him.

He could recognize him by touch alone, by smell; He would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. He would know him in death, at the end of the world. He swiped at the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled. “Who else?”

Jake uncovered his eyes and slid his hands further down his body. His arms settled around his waist, and he laid his head on his shoulder with a satisfied hum. He pressed a kiss to his neck, and Tom went stiff against him.

“Jake,” he warned, his hands flitting down to the ones on his stomach, “not here.”

“Relax, cuz.” His voice was a lazy drawl, still gruff with sleep. “My dad and your parents went into town early this morning to stock up on groceries. Everyone else is sound asleep upstairs and won’t wake up for hours.” His hands continued their descent downwards, growing dangerously close to his nether regions.

He latched his lips to the crook of his neck and sucked. His hand palmed the tent in Tom’s pajama pants, a remnant from his morning wood. There had hardly been a day he had slept next to Jake and not woken up hard. He gasped and bucked into his hand eagerly. He twisted around in his embrace and kissed him.

When he drew back, Jake smiled. “You taste like fruit loops.”

Tom leaned back against the island with a shit-eating grin. “Gee. I wonder why.”

His smile didn’t fade. “Shut up.”

“Make me,” he dared him.

Jake’s expression shifted. He placed his hand on the back of his neck and locked lips with him again. He nibbled softly on his bottom lip and swallowed Tom’s moan with his mouth. Tom put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down to his knees in front of him. Jake stared up at him as he hooked his thumbs under the elastic band of his pajama pants with round eyes, face flushed with arousal. The memory of how Jake’s mouth felt around him had his veins coursing with adrenaline, and he was desperate to relive the memory.

He pushed his boxers and his pants down his legs in one fell swoop. His hardening cock stood proud, bobbing against his stomach. Jake immediately wrapped his long, thin fingers around his length and pumped him up and down. He gave the head of his cock a few kitten licks before taking him into his mouth. Tom leaned his head back and let out a strained groan as he bobbed his head up and down his shaft, his eyes falling closed in his rapture.

His hips jerked forward of their own volition, and he felt Jake’s throat close around him as he gagged a little. The sensation made a pathetic squeak slip from in between his parted lips. He reached down and laced his fingers in his hair. He held him still as he thrusted into his mouth, his breath catching each time the tip of his cock hit the back of his throat. Jake never once broke eye contact as he furiously fucked his face.

When he felt his orgasm start to rise, he unsheathed himself from his mouth. He gripped his cock and viciously jerked himself, aiming at Jake’s face. Jake scooted closer to him, his gaze glued to the scepter of Tom’s passion in his fist. He stuck his tongue out, and Tom spilled his release onto his lover’s face with a grunt. He sat back on his heels and ran his tongue over his lips.

Tom rested a hand on his heaving chest. When he had mostly recovered, he said between labored pants, “You know, a good morning would have sufficed.”

Jake rose from the floor, helping Tom readjust his pants. “Good mornings are overrated.”

-

They spent their days in a blissful haze, stealing kisses whenever their family’s backs were turned to them for long enough. Time seemed nonexistent. They frolicked along the lake, their own personal garden of Eden, or lounged in the sun, eyes closed, always connected at one point of contact, talking about nothing for hours and getting so tan that their skin flaked off despite how much sunscreen they rubbed into one another’s backs. When they got sick of the heat, they went for a dip in the pool or the lake. At night, when the door was locked and the world was blind, they turned their rickety double bed into a castle in which they both ruled, seeking solace and shameless pleasure in the feel of each other’s skin. They stayed glued to each other, never leaving the other’s side for more than three minutes as if they were attached at the hip, and Tom hated to think that he would ever have to go through life otherwise. He had taken what was supposed to be his purgatory, some rinky-dink vacation in the middle of nowhere, and turned it into Neverland. Perhaps purgatory was what would come after.

Tom was sitting on his bed upstairs on the second to last day of vacation. It was dreary outside. The sky was gray and bleak, and the air had a slight chill to it. It certainly wasn’t good weather for being outside, which put a damper on things, but his family still intended to make the most of the situation.

He had his phone in hand, trying to do what he could with what little wifi he had on the second floor. He looked up when he heard the door creak open. Jake shuffled in, appearing rather glum. He was doing his best to try and conceal his mood, but Tom could see straight through to his brain as if his skin was made out of cellophane. He looked like a wilted flower, all the life and vigor drained from it.

“Hey,” Jake offered, his tone empty.

“Hey.” He put his phone down on the side table. “What’s wrong?”

He pretended to be taken aback by his assumption. “Nothing.” Tom simply shot him a look that said he wasn’t convinced, and he continued, “I swear, it’s nothing, it’s just...” Once he let those few little words slip, he sighed and said, “Me and the twins were supposed to spend all of next week at my mom’s house because we’re on vacation with Dad, but she’s going to Mexico with her new boyfriend instead.”

Tom’s lips rounded into a small ‘o’ shape. “I’m sorry, Jake.”

“It’s okay. I mean, it’s not a big deal. She’s done stuff like this before. It’s just...” He leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. He pursed his lips and looked down at the floor. “Sometimes, I feel like my dad cares too much, and my mom doesn’t care enough. Like she wishes she could just get rid of us and start over.”

He leaned back on his hands, unsure of how to respond. “Is there anything I could do to make you feel better?”

Jake raised his chin, and his signature impish smirk spread across his lips. “I can think of a few things.”

He sashayed over to him, a sway in his hips. Tom spread his legs a little wider as a subliminal invitation. Jake sat in his lap, straddling his hips, and Tom’s hands rested on his waist. Jake draped his arms over his shoulders, nuzzling his cheekbone with the tip of his nose. Tom lifted his face a little higher to lock lips with him.

Jake visibly relaxed and sighed into the kiss, allowing Tom to take control. He slipped his hand under his t-shirt, feeling the warmth from his smooth, tan skin. He wanted to kiss Jake’s sorrow away, fill him with the light of his absolute love and complete devotion for him until he couldn’t think of anything else.

When he ran out of breath, he separated from him and opened his eyes. He stared up at him in pure adoration until something (or someone) in the doorway caught his attention. He shifted his gaze to see his dad standing in the doorway. He looked frozen, every muscle in his body tense. He watched as his face seemed to go through all seven stages of grief simultaneously until his countenance landed on a mix of horror and disgust and confusion and disbelief all at once.

Jake took notice of his obvious distraction and craned his neck to look over his shoulder. His skin went uncharacteristically pale when he spotted Tom’s father. _Shit,_ was the only word his mind could conjure up with the frenzied state of panic he was in. _Shit, shit, shit._ Why hadn’t he closed the door?

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Before he could find the words, his father vanished from the doorway, as if he hadn’t been there at all. But he had. Tom’s shaking hands and racing pulse were a testament to that.

Jake turned his head to look down at him almost in slow motion. He didn’t even look embarrassed. All he could see was pity in his eyes. He seemed to be rendered speechless as well. “Tom... I...”

Time sped up as Tom shoved him off of him before he could finish his thought. He landed unceremoniously on the mattress next to him with a bounce. He stood up without registering the expression on Jake’s face and ran from the room. He blew through the house like a hurricane, rushing down the stairs in a flurry. Luckily, he didn’t bump into his father during his hasty escape. He went out the back door, rounding the side of the house. His feet headed towards the lake before his brain even knew where he was going. He once again felt outside of himself, his soul watching from above as his body moved of its own accord.

He came to a halt at the edge of the dock. His mind was a windstorm of so many emotions: shame, anger, hopelessness, fear. He felt like he was being pulled apart in different directions and hacked to pieces, crows picking apart his brain and scattering the remains. His heart was hammering against his rib cage so much he was convinced it would burst out of his chest. Why hadn’t he closed the door? They always closed the door. Why hadn’t he thought to close the door? Why hadn’t Jake thought to close the door? Why hadn’t either of them closed the door?

“Tom!”

The voice came from behind him and made his shoulders hunch. He whirled around, and Jake stopped short of him when he saw the look on his face. He should’ve known he would follow him. If he had listened closely, he would’ve heard a soft pair of footsteps echoing his thundering ones.

“Stop.” He held a hand out. “Stay away from me.” The closer Jake came to him, the less room he felt he had to breathe, even standing outside. He didn’t know if he would faint or spontaneously combust or lash out at him and hurt himself in his confusion.

Jake’s arms dropped to his sides. “Tom,” he whined, “I’m sorry.”

Tom wanted to be mad at him. He desperately wanted to be mad at him, even for something as trivial as not closing the door. He wanted to despise him with every fiber of his being, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate him. He could never hate him. “It’s not your fault,” he managed to get out through gritted teeth.

Jake seemed to carefully study his expression, searching for the right words to say. “I’ll talk to him, okay? I’ll tell him it wasn’t what it looked like—”

“Not what it looked like?” He cut him off with a scoff. “He’s not dumb, Jake, and he’s not blind either. He knows what he saw.”

“Well then what do you suggest we do?” he fired back.

“Nothing!” He raked his hands through his hair, wanting to tear tufts of strands from his scalp. When he let go, it was all mussed and stuck up in random places. “We just wait.”

A breeze blew past them, and only then did Tom become aware that he wasn’t properly dressed for the weather in his thin, cotton t-shirt and shorts (and he had neglected to grab a jacket in his frenzy). His temper fizzled out, leaving him vulnerable to the air nipping and biting at his skin, but he felt it matched his mood. He kept his eyes glued to the ground.

“We still have the rest of the day,” Jake’s voice cut through the silence that had enveloped them. “We might as well make the most of it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jake take a step towards him and flinched at the movement. “Don’t,” he warned.

Jake listened to him, despite how much he could tell he didn’t want to. “Please,” he begged, and he could see tears starting to well in his big, blue eyes. “Please don’t shut me out again. Not now. I could take it before, when you treated me coldly, but now, after everything...” he trailed off and shook his head.

“Come on, Jake. We always knew this was going to end eventually. It couldn’t last.” he reasoned. “Did you think we could just have our little summer tryst, forget about each other for months, and then pick up at Christmas like nothing happened?”

“We live forty-five minutes away from each other, Tom. It’s not impossible for this,” he pointed to him and then to himself, “to continue.”

“So we graduate high school. Then what?” he posed the question. “Move in together? Live happily ever after, just the two of us, keeping our affair a secret from the people close to us, from the rest of the world?”

Jake’s shoulders slumped. “Is that so crazy?”

Tom seethed with anger, his hands clenching into fists so hard his nails dug into his palms. He wanted to laugh in his face, but deep down, part of him craved that far off reality of an eternal state of domestic bliss as well. “Wouldn’t it eat you up inside?”

Jake’s gaze bore into him. “Wouldn’t it be worth it?”

 _Yes,_ he desperately wanted to whisper. Yes, of course it would be worth it to him. Tom would set himself on fire just to watch his eyes dance with the reflection of the flames, but something felt disjointed between them now. They had long loved with their eyes closed, but now he felt as if a mirror had been held up to his very soul, and in it he had viewed the error of his ways. The wool had been pulled from his eyes, their bubble had burst, and he once again felt the same disgust he had first felt when he realized his feelings for his cousin. Maybe their family weren’t the only ones they had been fooling. Maybe they had fooled themselves as well.

The lake was too calm, too still to fit his mood. The sky seemed to darken in a matter of seconds, the sun started to slip down towards the horizon just as quickly as it had ascended. The sunlight refracting on the slightest ripple of water faded to silver. Nothing gold can stay.

“I wish you wouldn’t have kissed me.” His voice sliced through the tension like a knife.

He examined the sharp, hard line of his mouth pulled taut, the way it barely twisted into a frown at the corners. He perceived the slight tremble of his chin as he held back sobs. “I wish you wouldn’t have reminded me of the first time I did.”

He couldn’t control the hot tears that rolled down his cheeks in fat drops, singeing his skin. Before he completely broke down in front of his lover (now ex-lover), he pushed past him, knocking his shoulder against his as he did so. He kept walking, not once looking back, his head pounding in time with his feet against the dew-speckled grass that felt like spikes pricking his bare skin. In the back of his mind, he had known there was an inevitability what they had would be torn to shreds and left in ruins. Everything had fallen to shambles as quickly as it had been constructed. But he knew in his despair that he would spend the rest of his life hopelessly in love with him.

-

He slept on the couch downstairs that night.

If Jake cared, he didn’t show it, hardly batting an eye when he set up a make shift bed on the sofa. His father didn’t say anything to him either. He barely even looked in his direction, and when he did, it was like he was looking through him rather than at him. He didn’t know what he was expecting him to do. Explode, maybe. Get mad at him. Throw dishes, slam doors, punch a hole in the wall. He should’ve figured he would continue to be passive aggressive and ice him out, except now his silent treatment was even worse because it did nothing to alleviate his anxiety over what he had seen.

They got up early in the morning. Over breakfast, he saw Jake. His skin was as white as a bedsheet, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He clearly hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep. Tom hadn’t either. His eyes were red and swollen, and he looked like he had been crying. There was obviously something off about him, about both of them really, but if their family noticed, they didn’t mention it. He didn’t spare him a glance.

It didn’t take long for Tom to pack his stuff. He helped load everything into the back of his parents’ van. He went upstairs to the room his parents were staying in and caught his father by himself, shoving the remainder of his things into a duffel bag with his back to him. He stalled in the doorway and fidgeted, wondering if he should speak up or not. Would it be better to clear the air now before they got home? Or really ever for that matter?

He finally cleared his throat, picking at his nails. It took him a moment to find his voice. “...Dad?”

His whole body tensed at the sound of his voice. When he continued to give him the cold shoulder, Tom continued, “Dad, about yesterday—”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he cut him off. He zipped his bag closed

His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “But, Dad, I...”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and whirled around. “I said I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” His face was red, and his mouth was a stern, straight line.

Tom was stunned into silence. He felt paralyzed as his father approached him like a raging bull. “But let me make one thing clear.” He shook a finger in his face. “You will never do anything like that ever again. Do you hear me? Never again.”

His mind was swirling with questions. What did he mean? Never do anything like that again with a boy or with his cousin? Before he could voice his thoughts, his father demanded, “Promise me.”

“I promise!” he blurted.

“Good. Now we will never speak of this ever again.”

He gave him a searing look before pushing past him. He stood there for a second in shock. He felt tears slip out of the corner of his eyes, and he quickly wiped them away before anyone could see them. He sniffed, gathered his composure, and went to see who else needed help.

It was sunny out. The morning sun rose high in the sky in contrast to yesterday’s gloomy weather, making sweat gather on the back of his neck. His father slammed the back of the car door after all the bags and suitcases had been loaded. Everyone said their farewells and parted ways, climbing into their respective cars. Tom rounded the side to see Bethany and Hannah already in the back seat, reserving an empty space for him in the middle. He sighed.

“Tom!”

Goosebumps rose on his arms at the sound of his name rolling off a familiar tongue. How many times had he heard him say his name — in anger, in greeting, in his sleep, in his dreams, in the thralls of ecstasy — and yet, this time, that one syllable broke his heart?

In the second it took him to turn around, he tried to steel himself against whatever was coming, to harden his heart and tell himself he would deal with his grief in the privacy of his own bedroom later. But when he turned around and saw the look on Jake’s face, a look like he was so close to breaking, trying to hold everything together, a look like it would be the very last he ever laid eyes on him, he couldn’t help the whine that rose from the back of his throat.

They moved towards each other as one. They reached for each other in unison, Jake practically collapsing in his arms, Tom looping his arms around his waist and pulling him into his chest. He held him as close to him as physically possible, clinging to him as if the world was ending. Jake buried his face in the crook of his neck, and he could feel wetness against his skin. He inhaled his scent and reveled in the warmth his body exuded. He wanted to kiss him. Oh, every cell in his body was screaming at him to kiss him, just one last time, but he still had enough awareness of his surroundings to realize that his whole family was watching them, probably laughing at their melodramatic display of sadness, and so he just stood there, hugging the love of his life and letting the world around them disappear for just one precious moment more.

But then Nate leaned his head out the car window on the driver’s side, and the temporary walls they had put up came tumbling down. “Come on, lovebirds! Move it along!” He slammed his hand down on the horn, blaring the obnoxious noise, and he could hear the twins snickering in the backseat.

He didn’t want to let go, but he knew he had to, and when Jake pulled away from him, every bone and muscle in him ached to envelope him in one last embrace. His blonde lashes were wet, but imperceptibly so, and even then, Tom was probably the only one who would notice. He was the only one who ever looked at him long enough to notice everything about Jake.

He forced the corners of his pink lips to curve upwards into a small smile. “Bye, cuz.”

He said the words with so much nonchalance and casualty. Tom felt like his sanity was splitting at the seams, so he merely whispered, “Goodbye.”

And then he turned his back on him and got into his car, climbing over Hannah to fall into his seat.

His family’s car was the first one to tear out of the driveway. Nate’s car followed behind them, but he didn’t dare look. Hannah had her headphones on, swinging her stuffed animal around. Bethany snapped her gum and typed away on her phone. He struggled to click his seatbelt into place and slumped in his seat.

His mom twisted around in the passenger seat in front of him to look back at him. “Aw, it’s so sweet you’re going to miss your cousin. It makes me happy to see you boys get along so well.” His dad clearly hadn’t told her what he saw, which should’ve made him exhale with relief, but it really just made his chest heavier. She patted his knee reassuringly. “Don’t worry. You’ll see each other again at Thanksgiving before you know it.” But something in the way his father bristled beside her made him think that wasn’t going to be the case.

She turned back around and cranked the volume on the radio. The lake was a vibrant blue-green, sunshine reflecting off of the surface. The sky was a clear blue except for the occasional puffy, white cloud. The trees swayed side to side in the slight breeze, and the birds chirped merrily as they soared through the air. The atmosphere wasn’t befitting of his disposition. But on the way back to their little, suburban house on the outskirts of Chicago, he resolved to keep that week tucked in his pocket and guarded under lock and key like a secret, untainted and reserved for his mind and the mind of his forbidden lover’s only.


End file.
